Rafael Kubelik war der Prototyp des hochintelligenten und dabei grundehrlichen...

Rafael Kubelik's 1970 Deutsche Grammophon recording of Mahler's Seventh Symphony, made with this same orchestra in this same hall, was and remains as analytically exact as any on record. Swift of foot, with crystal-clear textures, it places the symphony unequivocally in the 20th century. (Audite's notes tell us nothing about Kubelík's Mahler but it is an interesting fact that he studied the work with Erich Kleiber.)

Kubelik's approach suits the music wonderfully well: the opening movement's mighty oar-stroke, the spectral scherzo, the balmy beneath-the-stars caress of 'Nachtmusik II' (which like the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony is all the more alluring at a quickish tempo), the finale's quasi-Ivesian revel. I would gather from Jonathan Swain's review of Kubelik's live 1980 New York performance that the reading had put on weight by then. That, or the New York Philharmonic lacked the time or inclination to dip their sound in the refiner's fire.

Happily, this 1976 Bavarian Radio performance is very much the reading as it was, with a comparably fine Herkulessaal recording. What it lacks, alas, is the absolute clarity and consistent impetus of the studio version. Recording these Mahlerian behemoths at a single sitting often ends up this way. In the finale, the playing lacks the freshness - the needle-sharp texturing and edge-of-the-seat excitement - of the studio version.

The studio recording is available only as part of Kubelik's complete 10-CD set of the symphonies (glorious performances of Nos 1, 3 and 7, and nothing that is less than fresh and interesting, all advantageously priced). Younger Mahlerians who can't run to that may care to get a sense of this unique reading of the Seventh from the new Audite CD. Sadly, it isn't cheap; indeed, given its provenance and packing, it's unreasonably dear.

Rafael Kubelik's 1970 Deutsche Grammophon recording of Mahler's Seventh Symphony, made with this same orchestra in this same hall, was and remains as analytically exact as any on record. Swift of foot, with crystal-clear textures, it places the symphony unequivocally in the 20th century. (Audite's notes tell us nothing about Kubelík's Mahler but it is an interesting fact that he studied the work with Erich Kleiber.)

Kubelik's approach suits the music wonderfully well: the opening movement's mighty oar-stroke, the spectral scherzo, the balmy beneath-the-stars caress of 'Nachtmusik II' (which like the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony is all the more alluring at a quickish tempo), the finale's quasi-Ivesian revel. I would gather from Jonathan Swain's review of Kubelik's live 1980 New York performance that the reading had put on weight by then. That, or the New York Philharmonic lacked the time or inclination to dip their sound in the refiner's fire.

Happily, this 1976 Bavarian Radio performance is very much the reading as it was, with a comparably fine Herkulessaal recording. What it lacks, alas, is the absolute clarity and consistent impetus of the studio version. Recording these Mahlerian behemoths at a single sitting often ends up this way. In the finale, the playing lacks the freshness - the needle-sharp texturing and edge-of-the-seat excitement - of the studio version.

The studio recording is available only as part of Kubelik's complete 10-CD set of the symphonies (glorious performances of Nos 1, 3 and 7, and nothing that is less than fresh and interesting, all advantageously priced). Younger Mahlerians who can't run to that may care to get a sense of this unique reading of the Seventh from the new Audite CD. Sadly, it isn't cheap; indeed, given its provenance and packing, it's unreasonably dear.

Rafael Kubelík’s performances of the Mahler First, particularly the 1968 studio recording that is the Penguin Guide’s top choice and has earned a rosette from Gramophone, are familiar to many collectors. I must admit, however, not being a fan of that studio recording for several reasons. First, the phrasing always seemed to me choppy and phlegmatic, having too much rhetoric and not enough of a focused overview of the work. Second, the recorded sound is particularly harsh, dry, and two-dimensional, cramping the almost 3-D effect that Mahler achieved in nearly all of his symphonies. And third, despite the obvious energy he brought to the symphony, Kubelík always seemed to me less engaged in his studio recordings than he was live, a trait that also afflicts his highly praised 1967 studio recording of Die Meistersinger. The orchestra plays with lilt and grace, the singers all interpret their roles beautifully, yet somehow it all sounds like a hothouse flower.

This live performance from 1979, then, attracted my attention immediately when I saw it was available for review. Unfortunately, it suffers from exactly the opposite virtues and defects of his studio account. On the positive side the symphony, though well inflected with little ritards and touches of rubato, makes a lot more sense here and seems less arbitrary, except in the latter half of the third movement. Kubelík is also really into the music, creating real atmosphere, particularly in the long, slow peroration in the first movement and the melancholy third. But the sound is the opposite of boxy: It’s far too roomy, the orchestra sounding as if it were recorded in the old Astrodome with the roof open and a hot Texas breeze scattering the minute details of the score to the four winds. In short, every musical climax poofs away in a flaccid, soft-grained mushroom of sound. As you can imagine, this is a tremendous detriment to the finale of the first movement and most of the fourth.

It’s a pity, really, but what can you do? Kubelík is gone now, and so can’t return to remake the symphony under more ideal conditions. If you are a Kubelík completist, however, you’ll want it as a fine example of what he could achieve with this symphony under good musical conditions with an orchestra he really loved. To say that Audite’s packaging is cheap is an understatement. Both the front and back covers feature a photo of a twig with yellow-brown, dying leaves. The back cover gives you the only information on this performance: composer, title of work, conductor’s name, orchestra, city of origin, and recording date. Inside there is nothing except an 83-page, full-color catalog of Audite CDs, which you can’t even take out because it’s firmly glued in place. I’ve seen supermarket classical CDs better than this.

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Bela Bartoks einaktige Oper ‘Herzog Blaubarts Burg’ gehört im 20. Jahrhundert zu den großen Werken dieser Gattung. Wenn auch wenig publikumswirksam, so haben gerade konzertante Aufführungen der Zwei resp. Drei-Personen-Oper (wenn man den Erzähler am Anfang mitrechnet), diesem Werk zu seiner verdienten Anerkennung verholfen. Und natürlich einige hervorragende Schallplattenaufnahmen, allen voran die von Fricsay mit Töpper und Fischer-Dieskau (DGG), Boulez mit Troyanos und Nimsgern (CBS) sowie Norman und Polgar (DGG) und Kertesz mit Ludwig und Berry (Decca). Interpretatorisch von mindestens gleicher Qualität ist dieser Live-Mitschnitt von den Luzerner Festwochen 1962, der von Rafael Kubelik dirigiert und von Irmgard Seefried und Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau gesungen wird. Einige Abstriche muss man beim eher mittelmäßigen Schweizer Festival Orchester und der Klangqualität machen.

Kubelik erweist sich als genialer Interpret, der es nicht scheut, in die bedrohlichen Abgründe dieser Musik hinabzusteigen. Hoffnung oder gar Licht lässt er in keinem Moment aufkommen.

Der Kunstgriff dieser Aufführung bestand allerdings darin, für die Judith nicht auf eine Altstimme oder einen Mezzosopran zu setzen, sondern auf den leichten und jugendlich-anmutigen Sopran von Irmgard Seefried, die für mich die schönste und authentischste Judith der Plattengeschichte singt. Fischer-Dieskau ist ein nobler, aber sehr düsterer Blaubart und wie für diese Partie geschaffen. Die Dialoge zwischen Seefried und Fischer-Dieskau sind faszinierend, und man kann den Bariton nur dafür bewundern, mit welch sparsamen Mitteln er die ganze Hin- und Hergerissenheit dieser Figur zu gestalten versteht. Hätte man damals ein besseres Orchester und eine bessere Aufnahmequalität zur Verfügung gehabt, so wäre dies die vielleicht beste Blaubart-Aufnahme der Diskographie geworden. Trotzdem, wegen Kubeliks Interpretation und der Sänger ist sie absolut empfehlenswert.

Kubelik’s very dark version could have been the best available if only the orchestra and the sound quality would match the high artistic qualities of the conductor and the excellent singers. Nevertheless, this recording is a top notch recommendation.